The Unpublished Memoirs of Roy Mustang
by nomdeplume1313
Summary: The final battle marked the beginning of a new chapter for a man aspiring to become fuhrer.  Spoilers for the manga, and fair warning this includes het and canon pairings, though will have eventual Roy/Ed.
1. Prologue

**Rebels overthrow Bradley administration **

**Furher King Bradley dead **

**People hail Mustang, support fuhrership**

**Mustang, Armstrong, tyrants or saviors?**

**Fullmetal Alchemist returns from underground alive**  
**_Brother Alphonse in critical condition_**

**Kain Fuery: the voice of the revolution**

**Maria Ross found alive, innocent of Brig. Gen. Hughes' death**

**General store, former lieutenant linked to rebellion**

**Hohenheim Elric, renowned alchemist, dead at 50**

I could include more of these headlines, I suppose, but they wrote about the rebellion-slash-revolution-slash-slaughter-slash-defense of Amestris for weeks. Each of the men and women involved got at least one feature story done on them and each was viewed as both a hero and a villain, sometimes in separate pieces, sometimes in the same article. It was no surprise to me that both Olivier Armstrong and I were given top billing in both of those categories. What did surprise me was how minuscule they made Ed's role in the battle. If only they knew. But for the public to realize what happened in the underground tunnels, it would mean letting them in on a very malevolent side of Amestrian alchemy, a side that none of us wanted to see unleashed ever again.

The four of us who made it out of those tunnels alive, though Al was barely so, agreed to never speak of what the true plans that the homunculi's leader, Father, had for the country of Amestris.

So we circulated a different story, that Bradley had recruited the help of a powerful alchemist and planned to create a weapon that would have killed thousands, not only in outlying countries but even in Amestris. Most surprisingly, to me, was that Izumi Curtis was the one most willing to step forward and explain our cover story. The woman who despised the military most of the time, who previously had only disdain for even those of us fighting against the fuhrer, was providing all of the alchemical knowledge necessary to flesh out our story. However, I had to, occasionally, put what she was saying in more diplomatic terms. Though she seemed to be more endeared to those of us who fought with her, she had no love for the media, or the government for that matter. Unfortunately, I didn't always get to filter her for the media. I was still in recovery for the first few press conferences. When Riza read those news articles to me, I groaned and realized regardless of how I looked or felt, I needed to run interference.

I made it to the next press conference, and several more after that. They all began to blur together. Each would begin with the hushed whispers of the crowds of journalists, the discreet clicks of cameras despite requests that they not photograph me in the condition I was in at the moment. With some satisfaction, I could also hear other journalists reprimanding their fellows and even confiscating cameras. Those ones called me a wounded hero; I didn't much buy into the "hero" part of it, but I certainly was wounded. With bandaged hands and dark glasses over my eyes, I would sit and answer questions. I did my best to pretend I had been temporarily blinded and that doctors were expecting a recovery of my vision in a matter of days, perhaps weeks. It was a lie that I liked to believe, myself, sometimes. That was always one of the first questions. Someone always seemed to feel it was necessary to inquire about my health.

Each would begin with me making the same statement, "Please be respectful of others' turns." It was a reminder that was little-needed after the sixth or seventh of these. "I can't tell who raised whose hand first and my men do their best to ensure you all get your questions answered, so please show them proper courtesy."

I would offer a brief smile, though I wasn't sure how my usual charm came across with half of my face obscured by the boxy frames covering part of my face, and then I would turn serious as I was asked again what had happened in that tunnel. There were theories, apparently, that my eyes hadn't been injured at all in the final battle. These conspiracy nuts thought that I wore the glasses to prevent anyone from realizing that I was an atrocious liar and discover my "tells." All, according to them, were connected to my eyes. Truthfully, the only "tell" I knew of had to do with fidgeting fingers that would tap whatever surface was closest - which is why I have mastered clasping them behind my back, steepling them in front of me or hiding them beneath a table to rest, and tap, at my lap - and they couldn't have seen that during the conferences either. I could barely move my hands thanks to Bradley.

What the people "know" and what I know are very different things. Even I am aware that I do not have the whole story, as my most vital sense had been deprived of me before that battle.

One of the last things I remember was Pride, formerly and once again known as Selim Bradley. That monstrosity forced me to give up my vision for a gift I didn't want, forced me to participate in a human transmutation when I had had the will to say no.

I understand that in the time since, the fuhrer's wife took Selim in to raise the boy as her own, despite obvious deformities: a marked forehead and an evil past. She, and Ed apparently, felt he needed a second chance. Personally, I think if I come across him one day, I may kill him, regardless of what memories he might or might not possess of sending me through the Gate. I have been fortunate enough not to encounter the young man, a fact that is probably better for both of us. I have been told that he has no recollection of his life before. I still don't care. I would leave nothing of him but a scorch mark. Regardless of the forgiveness I have been shown in my past, I have a very limited ability to return it to the creature.

Even after time passed, I rarely got a decent night's sleep. So many of my dreams were filled with memories of the Gate. Having now been there myself, I understand why the mysterious entrance-cum-higher-being is spoken of with such reverence by those who have witnessed it. You can almost hear that they, in their minds, capitalize the word "Gate" as they speak it in a way some cultures say the word "God" with that obviously uppercase G. I could have lived a few dozen lifetimes without witnessing it, and not for lack of curiosity. I am an alchemist after all, but I knew the costs, and I refused. Repeatedly, I was ordered to and I refused to perform a human transmutation, not only knowing the consequences, but because I knew I would be used for weapon fodder. Even when Riza's throat had been slit and her death seemed eminent, I knew that she could never forgive me if I attempted to bring her back.

My hands still bear their scars from that day, as does she. Riza didn't die, but the homunculi found a way to force me through the Gate anyway. Bradley's swords left telltale marks on my hands that remain today, just as his sword wound has left a thin white line on Riza's pale and otherwise perfect neck. I remember some from my passage to the Gate. A creature who was mostly human, not really animal, made up of light and dark at once. The "truth" of alchemy was forced into my mind and in return, I would be make a sacrifice against my will and released at the feet of Father, the grand master schemer of Amestris' history. Perhaps future as well.

After being unceremoniously dropped below, I was happy to find an ally in Alphonse Elric when the time came to face off against Father. Edward and Mrs. Curtis fought together, a sight I would have liked to have seen rather than heard as Al's armored body protected me, his permanently 10-year-old voice calling out the directions of our enemies. I do not know what type of alchemy I was producing at that moment. I knew I was using my own blood that flowed freely from the sword wounds through my injured hands. Thankfully, the rush of the battle did not let me think about the pain or the blood loss. I put the circleless alchemy to good use, though I didn't really have a clue what I was doing or even who I was aiming at. (In the time since the battle, I have teased Ed about how quickly I learned to use the knowledge the Gate gave me, but he insisted the only reason an "old fart" like me managed to learn it at all was from watching him in the first place. Though I will admit here that this is probably true, I won't give him the satisfaction of allowing him to hear me admit it aloud.)

Of the four of us, Al and I made our way to Father first, while Ed and Mrs. Curtis were forced to fight Pride alone. I still believe we were only a distraction for Hohenheim, who had somehow managed to merge with the homunculi's leader and blow him up from the inside out. I have been informed he was a philosopher's stone himself, and some of their conversation during that final fight implied he still had the souls of those who were killed to make him what he was. My own darkened perspective gave me no indication when Hohenheim had joined the fray or if, perhaps, he had been there all along. No one else seemed to have noticed just when he joined in any better than I did, but at least I had an excuse.

The explosion once again brought me to the Gate, this time with Al at my side, trying to explain where we had landed ourselves. I didn't need the explanation; there was something that felt both very right to every part of me that knew and used alchemy and very wrong to every part of me that felt like a normal human being. The place was a clash of who I was, and even in my state of darkness, I knew where we were. This time, I heard a voice asking me why I was not satisfied with the gift it had given me. It tried to extol the benefits of circleless alchemy, but I shook my head and told the thing that it wasn't worth what I'd been forced to sacrifice and that I'd not come to the Gate seeking truth anyway.

I could feel a difference as I left, but it had nothing to do with my vision. It was still blackness surrounding me, even as I cradled a frail, nude body in my still-bloody hands. I could hear Ed crying out for his brother, and occasionally for me, somewhere in the distance. Mrs. Curtis sounded to be alternating between doing the same and trying to calm Ed.

"Over here!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, taking for granted if they were calling out and searching that our enemies must have been gone. "I have Al! ... I think." I hoped.

Everything after that was a rush of the rescue, first by Ed and Mrs. Curtis, then by my team, including Riza and the strangers from Xing.

_Looking at what I've just written, I don't know if this is really the best start to what I should write. I didn't want to be one of those types who wrote memoirs, but I find the need to finally put pen to paper inside of the journal Ed gave me those years ago is overpowering of late. Surprisingly enough, I cannot blame last month's wedding. To be honest, I felt that had given me closure on a number of things, which I'm sure I'll get into on these pages that follow. It took another reminder of my own mortality to make me sit down and begin to fill the handmade-looking book with newspaper clippings and my writing on love, government, all of the inner thoughts that so few are privy to._

Though it is her death that makes me write and contemplate where I've come since that day I lost my eyesight, I don't know if I can truly dedicate this to the distant woman who raised me when she didn't have to do it. I can at least give her the credit for the inspiration.


	2. Chapter 1

**Edward Elric keeping bedside vigil**

_Brother Alphonse remains in serious condition_

CENTRAL — Anonymous reports from Amestris General Hospital claim that Alphonse Elric remains in the Intensive Care Unit, suffering from severe malnutrition.

This has confused many, given the knowledge that the younger Elric has been seen at his brother's side wearing a cumbersome suit of armor.

The source, who has spoken to the Central Herald only under the guarantee of anonymity, said that the elder brother, known to many as the Fullmetal Alchemist, has not left his sibling's side since they were rescued by some of Colonel Mustang's men, but that he has given no explanation for his brother's current condition.

At this time, there is no word on any potential legal action that may be taken against Edward Elric or Pinako Rockbell, who were responsible for Alphonse Elric's well-being.

0o0o0

We were all in the same hospital - Riza, Alphonse and myself. Ed technically was as well, but despite his own war wounds and the medical staff that continued to keep an eye on them, he never once considered himself or behaved as a patient. I think that if Death approached Ed and told him that it was time for him to die, Ed would argue until even Death was doubting his own records. That stubborn streak, not to be confused with my own, was both my greatest frustration as the teen's superior officer and one of the things I respected most about him. It wasn't perhaps the top, maybe not even top five on the list, but it was there, nonetheless.

My stubborn streak, however, had me walking the halls of the hospital, learning to adapt well enough to my new handicap well enough that, I hoped, I could avoid being tossed out of the military. Riza called it "bull-headed" and "stupid," but she didn't try to stop me. The shock of being permanently blind, even the admittance of it, had yet to hit me, and I already knew the first at the back of my mind and then the other would come eventually, probably in the wake of a major breakdown, but I didn't have time for that now. Though my stubbornness could easily match Ed's worst, I possessed something that the teen did not: self control. And my self control was dictating that I would have that breakdown when it suited me, and that wasn't while I was still recovering from the fight with the homunculi.

For now, I had people in worse shape than me to worry about and a country to help rebuild.

I knew, though, I was still a long way from being much good to anyone; it was all I could do to make my way through the hospital hallways, counting each doorway I encountered until I reached the one I knew was the Elrics'. There was a rail that ran the length of each wall, save for the doorways, and I used it to guide myself. It was always ... regrettable when I found it inexplicably wet or sticky. My hands had smaller bandages on them, so my fingers got the brunt of whatever the mystery substance was on the rail. Still, I considered it a better option to the roughly textured wallpaper. It was as abrasive as sandpaper on my fingertips, and after dealing with sore digits after days of relying on the walls, I swore I'd stick to the mystery substances and the railing.

Twelve doors down the hall from the nurses' desk, on the opposite side of the hall from my own room, I knew was where the Elrics were staying. The door to their room was closed, as it usually was to avoid nosy hospital staff members.

"No visitors. Ve ahre resting," a voice called out from within the room in a Drachman accent, a very poorly executed one.

"Don't try to screw with me, Ed," I replied through the wooden door as I reached for the handle. I had found it was easier to grab at and find handles on doors than it was when they had a knob. This concerned me for my return home; most of the doors at my apartment had knobs, and not all were at a normal height, a fact I still question. I still wonder who built the place, as half of the door handles were located closer to my knees than my waist. "Your phoney accent fooled me once. It won't again."

I could hear him laughing on the other side as I push down the handle and open the door. "You should have seen your face. Well, I guess you couldn't now that you can't really see a damned thing anymore, but the last time, when you thought you'd gotten the wrong room. That was hysterical!" He was genuinely laughing, not the forced noise that came out of him when Breda or Pinako visited, so even if this was entirely at my expense, I couldn't say I minded all that much.

"Sure, Fullmetal, make fun of the blind man." I made my way over to the chair I already know he was moving toward me. Almost as easily as Riza, Ed had gotten into a routine of how to keep items that would trip me out of my way and moving chairs or items I needed closer to my grasp.

"As though you're any better," he said as I took a seat and slowly rolled the chair a little closer to where he seems to be sitting. "I know you're the one who stuck Nina's alphabet letters to my automail."

I tried to look appalled at the idea. Even with the dark glasses over my eyes, I didn't think I could pull it off. "How could I possibly do that? I can't even see."

"You still know how a magnet works, asshole, and the last time I checked, that didn't require staring at it." Most of my team were shocked at how Ed talked to me, with all of them still tiptoeing around the fact that, no, I couldn't see. And as long as I didn't accept it as permanent, I didn't care that I couldn't at the moment. I had never avoided the topic of Ed's automail before, and even as Al was still in bed, drifting in and out of unconsciousness, it didn't stop me from messing with Ed however I could. "So," he said, "are you still sporting baby blues?"

I tipped down the glasses and looked in what I assumed was Ed's general direction; at least, I did after rolling my eyes at the question. "I wouldn't know."

"Still blue. Maybe a little darker, but definitely still blue."

Like someone who had suddenly acquired a very severe case of cataracts, both of my eyes had become washed out, lightened by a white film that no doctor seemed to know how to begin removing. Ed seemed most surprised of anyone that my eyes had not gone gray but rather a pale, pale blue. Everyone assumed my eyes were brown or even black, but I could have told them - and I think Riza could have as well, even at that point when we still considered one another only friends - that they'd been a dark, almost-navy blue.

"How is Al doing?" I asked, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of my nose.

"He's been waking up off and on," Ed said. "And the doctors think his body is doing better than it should be. I told him he needed to pull through. He kept apologizing to me. Like it was his fault he's like this." I could almost hear the dark cloud that was now hovering over him, as it always did, when he reflected on their attempt to resurrect their mother.

"It's a lot of people's fault, his included."

"Don't say that," Ed snapped back, a dangerous edge cutting through his voice. I had heard it before, and usually, I backed off, but intuition was telling me that pushing the issue now was probably better than doing it later. Later, Al might be awake and have to hear this conversation, but I knew when he was unconscious like this, there was no chance he could hear a word that was being said. And later, Ed would need to be strong to help Al as his body slowly grew stronger. We needed to have this conversation now.

"You might have come up with the idea, but Al helped you." I raised a hand to cut off any argument from Ed that I knew was coming. The fact that the simple move was all it took seemed proof enough to me that a part of him wanted to hear what I was going to say, needed to hear it. "And he was only one year younger than you. It wasn't as though you led your younger brother of five or six into helping you with this transmutation. He was as aware as you that it was considered forbidden, and he knew as much as you did about what you were doing." I heard him tell me to shut up, sounding half-hearted, but I continued. "If we're on the subject of dishing out the blame, you know, when you were both heading for Risembool on the train, Mrs. Curtis didn't call the Rockbells to tell them you were on your way home. And really, Pinako should have called at some point to see how you were and if you were going to be coming home anytime soon. There is also the fact that your father shouldn't have left all that information behind. It was far too dangerous for anyone to have found, not just you and Al."

Perhaps, if I could have seen him, I might have seen the warning signs of Ed's anger being ready to go off and realized that my earlier interpretation of it being half-hearted was very wrong, but I had no visual clues. That didn't mean I didn't have a fairly good guess that that his fury was building as I recited my laundry list of people who should have done better by the Elric boys prior to that night that changed everything for them.

"How can you say that?" Ed asked in a voice so low that I could practically feel the danger that lurked inside it. "Al listened to me because he was my little brother. And in case you've forgotten, he saved your sorry ass in battle. You'd have been stumbling around blindly while the rest of us fought to save everyone's asses. Izumi is still helping you, you sorry bastard, talking at those idiotic press conferences whenever you're 'too tired.'" I could hear his voice rising and heard the squeaking of the wheels on his chair sliding haphazardly across the tiled floor. I assumed he was standing.

"It is all true, what we've both said. One doesn't change the other."

Ed was close, I could feel his breath on my cheek and his hands at either armrest of my chair were bumping into my arms. I don't know what he thought to achieve in doing this, but if I didn't care before, when I could see his anger firing off, there wasn't a chance I was going to do it now. "Don't say that!" his hissed warning came with some unpleasant spittle that hit my right cheek, probably my glasses too. I raised my hand to wipe his saliva off of my face with a faint look of disgust, but did my best to give no sign I would back down. "My father fucking died for all of us and Al was nearly dead."

"While that may redeem themselves of that action, it doesn't erase that it happened or that blame still rests with them." I withheld a wince as I felt Ed's legs pressing against my own - his automail was surprisingly painful thanks to a random bolt the digging into my shin.

"It does. It has to, or what good does any of it mean?"

"It means that you all contributed to a mistake, and in some way, you have all paid and made up for it." I put my hand on his arm. "Most people have no problems spreading the blame, but you're the exact opposite. I think if you could, you'd heap all of it on yourself."

"But it isn't fair. It just ... My father isn't even here to defend himself.

Twice now in one sitting I'd heard him refer to Hohenheim as his father. It seemed in that last act of heroism that cost him his life, he had earned what he hadn't been able to while he was still alive: Ed's respect. I supposed that it had always been there, but admitting it aloud as he'd just done would have meant Ed getting past all of the hurt that is father had caused, intentional or not.

"No. He's not here to defend himself, or to apologize, or to even talk to you about how angry you have been with him all these years. You can't force the closure you didn't get with him for leaving by ignoring that he did it and that it was wrong in a lot of ways."

Ed didn't respond right away, so I waited. The bolt was still pushing into my leg, he was still breathing in my face, but we both waited until he finally spoke, his voice cracking just a little. "Are you trying to make me cry or something? Because I'm not likely to do it over him."

I gave Ed's arm a squeeze, sympathetic for the hitch I'd heard in his voice, but I wouldn't dare say anything all. To call attention to it would only cause additional embarrassment to the teen. "I wouldn't expect it," I said instead, "but I wouldn't think less of you if you did."

Ed moved his arm away from my grip and stepped back, thankfully relieving me of the presence of that blasted bolt. "Besides, some people might be willing to cry like a baby," he said in a way that told me that snide little comment, childish at that, was directed at me, "but not all of us are."

I nodded and took an audible sniff of the air, opting for immaturity to match his. "Tell me something, Fullmetal." I got a grunt from him in reply. "When was the last time you took a shower? You stink."

"What the hell are you playing at, Mustang?" Though I'd heard this phrase many times in our professional lives together, I don't think I'd heard it with such genuine confusion. "First, you play feature reporter and try to get me to cry over my father in some idiotic, teary confession of ... I don't know, love for the bastard or something, and now you're telling me I smell? Bastard."

"Indeed," I said as I stood from the chair, "I think it would be doing everyone a favor if you showered. Not to mention that the sound of water provides privacy when you need it."

I stood and slowly made my way to the door, my fingertips tracing the walls. He didn't say a goodbye, or a thank you, or "I hope trip and fall and die on your way back to your room," but I could be certain I heard the door to the small bathroom open as I left.


	3. Chapter 2

**Xingian Emperor announces treaty with Amestris**

SUZHOU - Xingian emperor Jan Shan has released an official statement expressing his desire to establish a peace treaty with Amestris.

"I have been in contact with my 12th son, Ling Yao, who has spoken highly of Amestris and its people," said Shan in the release. "He says that he strongly supports the new regime, whether it is under the leadership of Colonel Roy Mustang or General Olivier Armstrong, and he felt strongly enough to support them in their rebellion against the previous administration. As long as Mustang and Armstrong are at the head of the Amestrian government, I will trust his judgment and extend an offer of peace to the country."

0o0o0

A month had passed since the rebellion, with Olivier doing much of the frontrunning for the government, but with me still doing much of the talking when it came to the press, even to a number of the higher-ups in the military and those vying for positions in the new government. It made for an odd mix of leadership between the two of us. She did what I wasn't currently capable of, the heavy lifting, and I did what she didn't want to. Sooner or later, I knew we would have to come to an agreement who would take up that position of fuhrer to lead the country, but things were still too far up in the air regarding my future and the situation in the county. It was better to begin healing Amestris' wounds left by the homunculi.

"What we have heard is there is a small faction in the south that is preparing for an uprising while they feel the government is on unstable ground. The group isn't large. General Armstrong said she doesn't feel that we need a large contingent of soldiers to take care of it, so that we are not depleted here and in other areas of the country. And as for the generals -"

"Riza..." I rubbed at my temples. "Please, can we take a break?" I nearly winced at the pathetic whine that crept into my voice as I said those words. Not because I never whined regarding paperwork; I did that quite often. It was the fact that I hadn't intended it to be there this time. I guess that was no surprise, though. I hated most when she had to dictate reports to me. Paperwork had always irritated the hell out of me. Who knew it could frustrate me more now that I couldn't do it on my own?

"Of course, Roy," she said. I could hear the pity in her voice, and it killed me. The last person in the world I wanted to feel sorry for me was Riza. "We can continue later." Her hand moved to cover mine, but I quickly recoiled.

"No. Don't ... just don't." I pulled off my glasses, smaller now than the ones I had worn before, but darkened and blocking out my eyes from most angles. I began rubbing at my eyes and the bridge of my nose. Sometimes, a part of my mind indulged in the idea that if I just rubbed hard enough, I would suddenly find the darkness that obscured my vision was gone. "I'm only just hanging on to my sanity, Riza. I can't take the pity." I could feel myself starting to break. The whole of it finally weighing down upon me. This was my world, or it would be until Olivier took her place as fuhrer and I was relegated to being paraded out on the anniversary of the battle, little more than one of the poor heroes who lost something precious while reforming the government. "Please."

She reached out and snatched back the hand I had pulled away. "No pity. I promise you that. This isn't pity."

I let out a sigh and opened my eyes, despite how pointless it was to try to look in her direction. Had the situation been different, I'd have been still caring for her as she recovered from the loss of blood and emotional impact of having hand her throat slit. I would have been the strong one and for once, she wouldn't have been rushed to recover so that she could take care of me. I would have said aloud all of the things that were now going through my mind. Instead, I knew there was no point in doing that now. There was no point now. I was little more than another responsibility that Riza dutifully took on.

I gave her hands a squeeze with my own and tried to control the wave of loss for my sight, for the future I'd envisioned for myself. I took deep breaths, and Riza, being the patient woman she was just waited. She sat at my side while I stared straight ahead. I couldn't break in front of her, even if she were the person I trusted most. I was going to ask her to get me some food, something to get her out of the room long enough for me to let the facade crack when something other than black greeted me. My breath hitched, and I felt Riza squeezing my hands. She must have heard me, but assumed it was something terrible.

She had no idea why I was reacting the way I was and moved to hug me, to offer comfort I didn't need. "Green was always your color," I said to her, getting an awkward thank you in return. She wasn't understanding. Not yet. I kept my eyes straight ahead, where a giant black blob remained, so that she was still in my periphery. I moved away from her arms and took hold of them so that I could guide her in my only small sliver of vision.

I let one of my hands move to her hair. "You always looked nice with your hair down. A little softer than when you're in uniform." I let my hands run through the beautiful blond tresses and a smile begin at the corners of my mouth. I could feel tears stinging my eyes and the smile spreading.

"Roy?" she asked hesitantly. "You can see me?" She tried to move in front of me, but I moved my hands up to her shoulders and moved her back to the side.

"Only in my peripherals," I said. "Still nothing in front of me." My voice was cracking, and I could feel the tears that would have blurred the vision that I still didn't quite have. My composure was fading quickly, but I didn't care. I could cry for going these weeks without my sight, I could cry for the possibility that not all of it would come back or that I would lose what I got again, and I could cry because I was finally able to make out that forest-green shirt and golden hair. I felt that I was finally "allowed" to shed tears, and I did.

"But you can see," she said. She didn't even ask; she merely said it as a statement. I nodded in response only to feel her arms around me, holding me tightly. She smelled of vanilla and violets, her shampoo I guessed, as her hair was now under my nose, tickling it. I knew I was crying harder than I had in a long time, but so was Riza, and I couldn't have said whether it was for happiness, sadness, or a bit of everything. One of my hands, still stiff despite physical therapy and healed wounds, was curling in her soft hair. "Roy, I'm so glad. I'm so happy for you." She now sounded like she was somewhere between laughing and crying. Or both. She moved her hand to my cheek and positioned herself so that she wasn't in what would have been my direct line of sight. "Am I clear?" she asked, and I noticed some faint movement before I felt a thumb moving up to my cheek. I closed my eyes reluctantly, afraid the gift would be revoked, as I felt the gun-calloused digit wiping the dampness at the corners of my eyes. When it moved away, I tried to manage the difficult balancing act of looking at her without actually looking at her; it was more of a feat than I would have thought.

"You are blurry, what I can see of you, but even that ... I can't imagine a better sight." I smiled and raised my own hand up to her cheek. As she had done for me, but with much less finesse, I wiped at tears - of joy, I certainly hoped - from her soft face. I wished she wasn't so unclear, or that I could see more than just a thin sliver of her face. I had to wonder if this was making her blush. I had seen that pink color rise to her cheeks on occasion, caused it more often than not.

Close as we were, cheeks nearly touching, I moved mine just that slightest inch. It crossed my mind briefly that I hoped my five o'clock shadow didn't bother her. I couldn't grow a decent beard to save myself, but stubble I managed very well. It must not have troubled her, as she moved slightly so that she was pressing her soft lips to my cheek. In all the years we had known one another, this was more contact than we'd ever had before, and with my vision still severely limited, I was indulging in her touch.

I knew Riza well enough that she was testing the waters. The kiss on the cheek was an intimate gesture, but it still could be brushed off as an interaction between friends if I didn't respond in kind. However, I knew what I wanted and had known for a very long time.

I turned my face to press my lips to hers. For all my reputation as a womanizer - much of it earned, I will admit - I have never been so grateful for the experience. Even without sight, muscle memory kicked in and I was able to target her lips without the use of my mostly-lost sense.

Though I didn't want to be ungrateful for what piece of my sight I'd gotten back, I did regret that I couldn't see her reaction. I couldn't know if she had her eyes closed or remained open. I couldn't see if her cheeks flushed again, or if the flush looked different from when I would tease her before. Instead, I relied on what I had. I touched. My hands and fingertips couldn't get enough of her soft skin, of tracing the features. I would have likely watched her, at least enough to get a quick look at her face as our lips met, to drink in the vision. Instead, I let my fingers do that.

Riza did not complain as I follow over her brow and her cheekbones, as I traced her jaw and ears, then down her neck. I wondered if I can map her like this. I felt the valleys and ridges of her collarbone, the faint line now permanently a part of her neck. The way her hair feels softer, downier at her neck before it becomes the thicker, coarser strands that cover the rest of her head.

I could feel her skin beneath my fingers, and her own hand and fingers were a welcome weight on my rough cheek and another resting now on my chest. We slowly parted, needing air, and slight taste of raspberries and mint lingered on my tongue. I heard her breath catching and the faintest of sighs escape her lips as we parted.

"I have wanted to do that for a long time," I admitted. "Long before you were wearing a uniform day in and day out."

"I had a crush on you when I would see you studying with my father," she said. Back then, she'd still been a teenager, and I had noticed she was a pretty girl then, but I'd been so singularly focused on learning that I hadn't paid her nearly the attention she'd deserved. Now, my focus was on her, and I knew that the admission she had just made would bring the pink color to her cheeks.

"I suspected," I admitted, and I had, even with my one-track mind when it came to alchemy. I smiled at her as I cupped her cheek. I pressed my lips to hers again, and I couldn't begin to explain the way it made me feel. It was familiar but not, comforting but exciting. I recalled Maes' favorite phrase when it came to Gracia's kisses, that it was like "coming home," but I'd always disregarded the comment. I found now that I shouldn't have ignored him. If my years of atheism were wrong, and often I hoped they were, I knew that somewhere Maes was laughing at me while shouting a loud "I told you so."

The kiss began as gentle as, though less tentative than, the first. I found my hands tracing over her features as we kissed and nibbled at one another's lips, moved tongues against one another. I allowed a hand to trace down her neck and felt the faint scar there. We both stopped abruptly at that. She pulled back, or at least tried while I held her close. My index finger trailed over the long, thin scar at her neck as my mind supplied the image of the sword at Riza's throat, slashing it open. It was one of the last clear images I had of her, and until that morning, I thought it always would be. I shuddered and quickly let my hand drop from her neck only so that I could pull her close again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely. I found myself unable to find my full voice right now. "I'm so sorry."

"This was not your fault," she said. "You'd have had to have done it to me yourself to have kept me from going with you."

"And you call me the idiot." My hand at her cheek could feel the muscles pulling her lips up into a smile. She moved close again and pressed her mouth to my neck.

"I'm not an idiot," she said, shifting enough so that I could hear her clearly, "though maybe a bit of a masochist for putting up with you."

It was a wonderful, peaceful moment that passed between the two of us. I would have been content to keep it that way, but I could hear the doorbell ringing. Insistently. I groaned and tried not to grin too broadly when I heard her do the same, though inside, I was stupidly proud of myself for bringing the usually reserved woman to it. "Maybe we can ignore it," I suggested, only to have the ringing continue as though someone had fallen against the bell with no intention of getting up. Instead, I just sighed, realizing the pattern of the persistence was not all that different from a similar knocking style at the hospital. "I don't think ignoring it is going to happen. I have a sneaking suspicion that is Ed." Though, I had to admit that the fact he was actually at my house rather than the hospital was a bit of a surprise. I didn't think it could really be good, one way or another. Either Ed had bad news or he'd been forced from the hospital for one reason or another, which meant he was going to be disagreeable, more so than usual.

Riza removed her rather pleasant weight from my bed and walked from my bedroom. I placed my darkened glasses back on, and considered getting Ed to modify them so that they didn't obscure the only vision that I had. I did my best to stand from the bed and blindly, pardon the pun, grope for my robe, which Riza always left sitting on the back of the bedside chair. I pulled the robe on and carefully checked to ensure the seams were not on the outside. Prior to that day, I might not have been able to see what colors or styles Riza was dressing me in, but I could at least make sure that I didn't wear them inside-out or with the buttons in the wrong holes.

"Hawkeye, what a relief to see you. Could you do me a favor and get me away from this crazy man?" I heard Ed's familiar voice ring out from the entrance of my apartment.

"Lighten up, Ed," a second voice said, male and familiar largely due to the heavy Xingian accent. It must have been Ling Yao.

"'Lighten up?'" Ed's voice asked incredulously. "I was thrown from my brother's hospital room so he could do his physical therapy 'in peace,' and then to add insult to injury, I get stuck with your idiotic presence once you heard I was coming here to visit Mustang."

I chuckled as I made my way out of the door of my bedroom. Though Al very likely did need the space, it was probably a good thing that Ling Yao was there to detract from the fact that his brother didn't want him by his side all the time. I tied my robe around myself as I felt my sock-covered feet hit the wood floor of my hallway.

"Physical therapy can be rough," I said as I finished the knot. "It can even be painful." I spoke from experience on that, given the amount of it I was doing to recover the fine motor skills in my hands, which was coming along slowly. "That can make it difficult for friends or family to watch."

"There's no reason I couldn't have. I knew what to expect," Ed said, and I imagine to some extent that was true, given his automail. Al, though, was dealing with an entire body that wasn't working quite the way it should. "Still, doesn't mean I want to have to sit around with this asshole."

"You might want to stop calling me an asshole," Ling interrupted the remainder of Ed's rant. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm the heir apparent for Xing. Thanks to Greed, it isn't likely I'm going to meet some 'mysterious death' due to my siblings or their mothers." It took a long time for Greed to recover from how much that final fight against Bradley took out of him, but in my brief talks with the Xingian prince, it sounded as though the homunculus was still a part of him, but his weakened state gave Ling more control of his body than he'd had before, as long as Ling did things every so often to make Greed happy.

"Greed will be there to protect you, sure," Ed said, with an evil little smirk in his voice. "As long as the philosopher's stone holds out. If you keep this up, I might help speed up that process."

"Ed, will you please calm down?" Riza asked, sounding a little irritated, perhaps even a bit exasperated at the earlier interruption. Ed made a few disgruntled noises, as though the last thing he wanted to do was 'calm down,' but that he also knew better than to argue with Riza. I couldn't help but smirk. For once, I was not on the receiving end of either Riza's lecturing tone or Ed's frustration. It was a surprisingly nice feeling.

"Get that look off your face, Bastard Colonel. I have no problems hitting a blind man."

The mention of my blindness made me want to verify that it wasn't completely true anymore, and I pulled the glasses off and saw the faint line of color at the edges of my vision. I could see the small splash of yellow in Ling's direction and a surprising glimpse of red in Ed's. I repositioned my glasses again. "Wearing your red jacket again?" I asked, and I could hear Ling about to make a comment, likely something about my ability to see it, but Ed interrupted him.

"Yeah, Winry got it for me," Ed said, and I swear I could hear the blush that I knew was spreading to his face. I wondered if he knew he was that obvious when it came to the automail mechanic. "She said it didn't seem right that I didn't have my coat, but told me she could take it back if I didn't like it." He was talking very quickly, but paused long enough to snort at that. "Even if I didn't like it, I knew she couldn't take it back. It has custom inserts for all types of weather, it has the Flammel symbol on the back and a special liner on the right sleeve so that my automail doesn't catch on the fabric. Not that it would, well, not when she makes it. After I've abused it a little, or a lot, maybe."

I could hear a faint snicker from Riza at my right. "It was a very thoughtful gift," she said.

"Yeah. Which just sets the bar really high for me to fail when I have to return it with something like it," Ed said. "Because I know I'm going to. I don't do thoughtful well. With my luck, I'd probably end up getting her wrenches, which she'd see as an insult somehow, and she'd hit me with them. Seriously, I'm more likely to get attacked with a present than thanked for it. I don't know how you risk it, dating all the different women you do, Mustang. You can't possibly know them long enough to know their favorite things. Guess you're better at predicting what they'll like and all that shit than I am."

"I don't think he's going to be doing much of that dating now," Ling said. There was a pause, which I assumed was filled with Ed looking at Ling, very confused. "For calling _me_ the idiot, you are a fairly stupid prodigy yourself. Look at them both. Don't they both look a little ... ruffled?"

There was something about the way Ling said that that very nearly embarrassed me, and I've never been the type to do so easily. I could hear Ed trying to come up with another explanation for why my hair, and apparently Riza's, was a bit mussed up, but none of them seemed any more believable to him than they did to me, and _I_ knew they were wrong. His attempts soon drifted off into laughter. I imagine I was a sight, because I could practically feel that sheepish look moving to my face, but I had no ability to stop it, no more than the warmth in my cheeks. I didn't get like this over any of my conquests. But, then again, Riza wasn't a conquest. A force to be reckoned with, perhaps, but not a conquest.

"Well, about damned time," Ed said, still laughing. My own sheepish look spread to a smile. "Good. Though I wish I had gotten in on the pool on that one."

"Someone was betting on this?" Riza asked, sounding more incredulous than I really thought she or I had any right to be. After all, I don't think we were ever subtle about our attraction to one another. I know I'd never have let someone put me in my place as often and as thoroughly as Riza did it. And there were few joys I got that made me happier than teasing her just to the point of bringing a faint pink blush to her cheeks. I think we were fairly obvious.

"Everyone was betting on this," Ed said.

"I missed it by two weeks," Ling replied, sounding a little put out. "Ed, my friend, would you happen to have a few cenz to spare so that I can settle my debt with Lt. Breda, perhaps convince him to change it to ... a few minutes ago?"

"No, not for that. Not for the extraordinary amount of food you manage to put into that bottomless pit stomach of yours, not for some other harebrained scheme. No. Never."

"You wound me, my friend," Ling said, and I could imagine he was grasping his chest at the same time. "Would you give it to me if I could really prove you were a stupid prodigy?"

"As if you could," Ed shot back. "Go ahead and try."

"Roy asked you about that lovely red coat that Winry got you," Ling said, sounding rather self-satisfied. As I knew I would have a smirk on my face, I imagined Ling was wearing one, himself, though I knew I was probably getting some of his features wrong in my head; I hadn't had as much contact with him, particularly before Greed and my blindness, so I knew some things were wrong when I imagined him.

"Yeah, and I told him about it," Ed said. "How does that prove ..." I heard quick footsteps in my direction and felt the glasses being pulled roughly from my face. "Holy shit, you can see?" He was very close, enough that I could feel his body heat and the warm breath as he tilted my head down - somewhat forcefully - to look me in the eyes. "Your eyes are darker, too. A little, I think. But the edges definitely are."

I smiled. "I don't have my full sight back, just in the peripheries. So right now, you're a giant blob of black, but I can see either of my walls." Ed then tilted my head like I was some sort of science experiment he was determined to figure out, which it possibly was. However, I suspected that even those probably got more care than my neck did at the moment. I think he forgot that it was still attached to my head. "So you can see me now?"

"Yes. I see gold hair, bits of red. It's still a blur."

I could hear and feel the sigh of relief. "Good. When you traded in the circleless alchemy, I thought you were an idiot. An even bigger idiot because you didn't get your sight back in return. But it looks like the Gate is evening the score." He released my face and patted me on the back, hard. "Even if you need glasses, it's a hell of a sight better than well, no sight at all."

"That's a very bad pun," I said, dryly.

"You act as though I care."

I rolled my eyes and gestured to the glasses still in Ed's hands. "Think you can fix these so I can see at least out of the edges? It would have to be a bit disconcerting still for others to see my eyes as washed out as they are right now. I'd rather the extent of all of this stay a secret, but I don't want to pass up what I can see to hide it."

"Yeah, sure," Ed said, "though if I could finally see, I wouldn't want to be obscuring any part of my vision with tinted shades." I heard him set the glasses on the small circular table I kept in the hall to catch loose keys and change whenever I came through the door. He clapped his hands together and I could feel the alchemy crackle through the room. The sensation was stronger than I could ever remember having before going to the Gate, and I suspected that even if I'd given up the ability to do alchemy without a circle, I still retained some of the "gifts" the Gate had bestowed upon me. That fact and the need for equivalent exchange made me wary about the idea of ever fully getting my eyesight back.

"There you are," Ed said after the crackle of the transmutation had ended.

I placed the glasses on my face and turned to Riza. "How did he do?"

"Just fine," she assured me. "They look a little like Lt. Col. Hughes' used to, though a bit rounder."

I nodded and thanked Ed. "I'm getting a bit tired of standing, why don't we go somewhere we can sit down?"

"Sounds good to me," Ling said. "Lead the way." I walked into the living room, knowing the rest were behind me.

"The blind leading the idiot," Ed muttered behind me.

"Since I was the one who noticed your future fuhrer's entrance to the world of coupledom and his ability to see, I don't think I'm the idiot," Ling said.

I took a seat on the small sofa, feeling a warm weight beside me. I very nearly put my hand on the knee beside mine until I realized it had the distinct feeling of metal, even through the teen's pants. Whatever boundaries and distance we'd once had, they was long-since obliterated. Partly from our heated encounter in the hospital, I'm sure, but I think it started when I did my very best to spell out SHRIMP and RUNT in alphabet letters down Ed's legs while in the hospital. Apparently, I was not careful enough in arranging the letters, as I mistook a W for an N, but it got the message across all the same.

This time, as I felt someone settling onto the arm of the sofa, leaving the wing chair open, I knew that person was Riza. I could feel her hand at my shoulder, and it made me smile. "How long will Al's physical therapy last?" Riza asked Ed.

"About an hour. Maybe two if they get him into the pool and do a massage, which they might." I could feel Ed fidgeting beside me. "Mei Chan is going to be doing another round of treatments on his muscles probably after the physical therapy. Which means it could be more than two. Winry said she'd pop in during that. She wants to see if Mei Chan's work is something that can be incorporated into her automail, and Al's fine with being analyzed like that."

"I'm surprised you're not spending the two hours in the meantime with her," I said, feeling the fidgeting beside me getting worse. If he kept this up, he was going to shake both of our brains lose with the constant bouncing of his leg.

"She's doing some kind of girls' day out with Lan Fan and Teacher, though it will probably be dull for Winry. All those two want to talk about is fighting techniques." He sighed. "So instead of any of them, I get saddled with the would-be emperor, here."

"You make it sound like it's a punishment, Ed," Ling said, most likely with a grin. "In your place, I'd consider this early diplomatic relations with Xing." I could hear the sound of feet being placed on something wooden, likely my coffee table, which was not designed or intended to be a footrest. "And you're not doing a very good job of it."

Ed let out a slight growl. "You were obnoxious before Greed started messing around in your head. Now you're a step away from me killing you just to keep from losing my mind." I could hear the other teen laughing at Ed's words, clearly not threatened in the least. It was difficult to believe that anyone as carefree as Ling still appeared to be could possibly have a homunculus buried somewhere in his subconscious, waiting out its days through its host. "Better yet, why don't I show you that game Elysia taught Mei Chan."

"Patty cake?" Ling asked, then paused as though remembering what it entailed. "No, thank you. Though it would have been interesting if Brig. Gen. Mustang could still do alchemy that way. You two could play together, and I'd almost bet big explosives would happen."

"They still could," Riza said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "You should have seen them when they dueled." That earned an excited sound from Ling, and I could hear his feet sliding off of the coffee table onto the floor. I imagined it was so he could lean forward in his seat. Riza described in some detail the fight, with Ed interjecting when her descriptions were a bit too biased in my favor. I had no issue about the way she told it, even when she described that I lost through a moment's hesitation.

"Why did you stop?" Ling asked me. "You had him right where you wanted him?"

"I was looking at a young kid prepared to blow him to smithereens. I can't quite say it was my first time in such a situation," I said, thinking I'd put an end to the conversation.

"Once you get your sight back, I want a rematch, so that none of this shellshocked, war hero stuff making it seem like it wasn't a fair fight," Ed said, never one to take the sensitive approach to others' emotions.

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful," I told him, turning my head in his direction, though it made it more, rather than less, difficult to see him. "You're at least going to wait until I can see."

"I said I wanted a fair fight. To win against you now, all I'd need is to learn how to throw my voice."

I could feel Riza's hand tightening on my arm, afraid Ed had managed to insult me, but I could only laugh. "When I do get my sight back, I'm not telling you. It will give me the upper hand."

"For maybe ten seconds, then I'll kick your ass."

"So this is how he talks even to the future fuhrer of his own country," Ling said with a chuckle. "At least I know that I don't receive any special treatment."

I laughed bitterly, not at the way Ed talked to me, that was common, but rather at the mention I would be fuhrer. Even if my sight was coming back slowly, I knew that the country would not want a nearly blind man as their leader at such a critical time. It would be a sign of weakness to the world. Though I'd not said the sentiments aloud, I had already accepted, or as close as I ever would, the idea that the title would go to Oliver and not myself. "I think you have too much faith in the people. Things are far too uncertain for them to willingly follow a cripple."

"They consider me a hero, didn't they?" Ed asked, an edge to his voice. Normally, he didn't like that label the people gave him, but he was using it to make a point, both that they would follow him if he asked them to and to imply that despite his automail, a small part of him and some of the country would consider him handicapped. But at least what impeded Ed could be fixed with machinery, no amount of advanced medical science could understand, let alone fix, what had happened to me. Even Mei Chan had insisted there would be nothing she could do, that her work would simply be interference for whatever was going on with his eyesight.

"You already have the support of the people. Your man Fuery guaranteed that. The whole time the battle underground was raging, he was at the radio station. It was the best publicity a leader could ask for. Besides..." Ling said, then let out a noise as though he were stretching. "It isn't likely that this country, for all its 'forward thinking' is ready for a strong female leader. From what I've managed to gather, the whole reason Maj. Gen. Armstrong was sent to the Drachman front was because most of your military couldn't deal with her rising to such a high rank and staying in the main playing field."

I started to protest, but I felt Riza's hand move across my back between my shoulders. "The last promotion I received was at your insistence," Riza said, directing the statement at me. "There is some truth to what Ling is saying."

I scoffed. "Then all the more reason for me not to take advantage of a nation's prejudice. That would be one hell of a victory on my part. The country isn't happy that I can't see a damned thing, but I'm a better option because I've got the right parts below the waist?" I shook my head. "No. Olivier can have it, and she'd do well." I could feel Riza rubbing over my shoulders. It was strange, all of this touching, as though something had been set loose finally between the two of us at the admission of how we'd always felt. I had thought it might start slow, but we fell into it naturally, my own hand now moving to Riza's knee. I wanted to reassure her that despite all of the playboy instincts that came naturally to me, for good reason, I did genuinely respect women. (The one time I showed enough disrespect to actually grab a girl's behind at the age of fourteen had led to my Aunt Chris beating the hell out of me. It had been a quick and painful lesson that kept my thinking toward the "fairer sex" on the right track.)

"I wanted to tell you, though," Ling said, "I spoke to my father and told him to offer the olive branch, to use an Amestrian phrase, but only as long as you and General Armstrong are the ones in power."

"So I heard," I said. "Your father is willing to go on just your word?"

"The fact that Mei Chan and I have come to a truce has helped. For the royals in two separate tribes to be peaceable with one another, it's almost unheard of. One way or another, Mei Chan will be close by when I am emperor. If not as a wife, then as an advisor."

"But she's your sister!" came Ed's shocked voice, not without a bit of disgust behind it.

"Half," Ling corrected him. "And it isn't like it is uncommon with royal families. I don't know yet what decision I'll make on that. The practice of choosing a woman from each tribe to bear children is a little passe, especially if I want to unify the country. Besides that, I think Lan Fan might have my head for even thinking it."

"I know I would," Riza mumbled. "Your head or your balls."

Ling apparently didn't hear her, but that might have been difficult over my half-choked laughter. I cannot remember a time when I heard Riza use the word "balls" in that particular meaning, which made its sudden appearance in her vocabulary all the more amusing. It was also a sharp reminder not to get her angry. I quite liked my family jewels right where they were.

Ling and Ed stayed until they were sure that Al would be done with his physical therapy and treatment with Mei Chan. When they finally left, I pulled Ed aside - by the automail so that I was sure it was him. "Ed, I know you are angry that you had to leave your brother, but it is possible Al wanted you to take a break from the hospital as much as he needed some time to think on his own. Don't take this out on him." I felt him take a deep breath as his shoulder rose and fell beneath my hand. "Or he could have been sick of being around you twenty-four-seven." Ed sharply smacked my hand from him.

"Bite me, Colonel Bastard."

"I'm a brigadier general, you know," I said.

"Colonel rolls off the tongue better," he replied. "Make it to Fuhrer or at least General, and I'll see about changing it." He walked out of my apartment and shut the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 3

**Who will lead Amestris?**

_Over a month has passed and no fuhrer named_

CENTRAL — Though both have been cooperating, by all reports, amicably, the question remains who of Brig. Gen. Roy Mustang and Maj. Gen. Olivier Armstrong will step down from the leadership role to let the other lead as fuhrer of Amestris. It has been suggested that others may step up to take the helm if this decision is not soon made.

**Finally, a woman in power**

Personally, I think it's great that a woman with this sort of strength can show her ability to lead and command. It is the kind of empowerment that I show my daughters and say, "See this? This is what you could do one day if you wanted to. There are no restrictions on you. You can be whatever you want."

I think Brig. Gen. Mustang would do the country and women as a whole a favor if he allowed Maj. Gen. Armstrong to lead the country. Considering his health concerns, it makes the most sense that a strong, healthy FEMALE finally lead this country.

**Seriously? A woman?**

I read these long diatribes about how women are better, that they would prevent war and bring peace and blah blah blah. Honestly. This woman is a hell fiend if there ever was one. She hardly stands for womankind. She has no attachment to family, no children, no husband. There is nothing feminine about Olivier Armstrong. If she didn't scare me so damned much, I'd publicly insist she prove herself a female.

**Dear other countries, attack us**

Look, I don't really care if it is a woman or a man at the helm. I have seen Olivier Armstrong do a fine job leading this country and the military. If she is the one who is chosen to lead the country, so be it, but given the fact that Roy Mustang was blinded in the attack and we have yet to see any signs that the man has regained his sight, I think it is an invitation to war with our neighbors.

We cannot afford to show that kind of weakness, and though I appreciate what Mustang has sacrificed in service to the country, I feel he should be the bigger man, so to speak. He may be a hero, but that doesn't make him a fit leader for the country, not if he cannot even see a battlefield.

0o0o0o0

Olivier and I knew we were going to have to make a decision soon. The public had begun their own debate and had made what was a fairly amicable team effort between her camp and my own appear like some great battle. Depending upon who you talked to, it was a matter of male vs. female, disabled rights vs. keeping the handicapped in their places, youth vs. experience (not that Olivier was that much older than me), so on and so forth. It was really growing to be very annoying. Despite our differences going into this fight against Father, Olivier and I were almost amicable. While she'd had next to no respect for either me or my brother — and still likes to get under my skin, by doing things like releasing Scar to work on rebuilding Ishbal when he should have been sentenced properly through the court system — she seems to have gained at least a modicum of it for both of us. My struggles with my blindness and my continued work ethic despite it had apparently won her favor, though she pointedly continued to reject even the smallest of flirtations.

All of which, I will add for the record were not serious. Olivier Armstrong is a beautiful woman, frightening as hell, but beautiful. Riza was far more in my eyes than Olivier Armstrong, but I was grateful that the older woman's rejections no longer involved bodily harm. Slowly but surely, I was winning the Ice Queen over, and the first time I got a chuckle out of her, I wanted to dance a jig. I didn't because: a. She'd have killed me and b. I was in a room full of scattered folders and boxes at the time; I'd have likely killed myself in the process.

For having been in the military as long as I had and surrounding myself with men all this time, I was finding myself spending a good deal more time with the women in my life than I ever had; even Riza was around far more often. At the moment, she was running an errand for me, once again making the trek to the Central office to get the official documents that I would need. I hated that I needed her to do that for me still, but my eyesight was not improving so noticeably just yet that I could be as independent as I would have liked.

In the meantime, Gracia and Elysia were over the house, visiting. Elysia was sitting on my lap, playing a game with my slowly regaining eyesight. "Can you see me now?"

"I see brown hair and a ... pink bow?" I asked, as the blow was small enough that the blur of my vision was smoothing it right into the color of her hair.

She let out a happy giggle before wrapping her arms around my neck, squeezing tightly. After she released me, she moved again in front of me this time. "What about now?"

"Nope," I told her. We proceeded with this game a few more times, receiving a hug each time I told her I could see her. Elysia never seemed to tire of it, perhaps because she was happy for me, perhaps because I had never allowed myself to get so close to her and Gracia before my blindness. It had taken a long time for me to stop associating them with the friend I had lost, and according to Gracia, it had taken her as long not to do the same with me.

I returned Elysia's hugs until she finally bored of it and settled back against my chest. It was strange how easily she adjusted to her "Uncle Roy" when I had such a small presence in her life over the last year, and really even before then. I owed it to Maes to step up and help her as much as I could. There would be times when she would need a male influence in her life.

I loosely wrapped my arms around her and rested my cheek against the girl's soft hair between the two pigtails. I had never been an overly tactile person — growing up the way I had, it wasn't really an option I'd had afforded to me as a child — but with the loss of my vision, I found myself more willing to touch and make contact with others. really, because I had to do it. Elysia seemed to appreciate the contact as she snuggled closer to me.

I closed my eyes for only a moment when I heard the distinctive sound of a camera clicking. My eyes opened, a bit startled by the sound I'd come to associate with Maes. It was a moment of deja vu, knowing Elysia and Gracia were here. "It was too sweet of a picture to pass up," Gracia explained. "There are some traditions that I intend to maintain."

I smiled, despite the fact that the woman had taken a photo without my knowledge. "Make sure that I get a copy."

I know Gracia was about to say something else when the doorbell began to ring. Rather than the repeated ringing that I came to associate with Ed's now-routine visits, this had a short staccato rhythm to the rings that was freakishly precise. Gracia assured me that she would get it, if for no other reason than to make that buzzing stop. I sat, still holding Elysia like it came second nature to me. I think the last time I hadattempted to hold her, she was a little over one year old and I was so tense that she had immediately picked up on it and began to wail.

"Hello, Mrs. Hughes," a female voice said from the doorway of my apartment. Due to some small miracle, Olivier Armstrong liked Gracia and treated her with more respect than she did most others. "I need to talk to Mustang."

Yes, she was and nearly always would refer to me by only my last name. Amicable though we may have gotten, or at least no longer trying constantly to one-up one another, she didn't consider me — or much of anyone, really — worthy of my first name, or even my title. It was like dealing with an older, female Ed sometimes. I snickered at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Elysia asked from my lap.

"I was imagining if Ed had been a girl instead of a boy how funny that would be," I whispered to her.

Elysia paused a moment, probably lost for a few seconds at the sheer thought of it, and let out a few small giggles. "Then he'd be my big sister instead of a big brother." There was silence as she was contemplating the idea. It was nice to hear her call him a big brother. She could use that, and Ed certainly needed all the family he could get. "I don't think he'd talk about shoes and clothes like Winry does, though. It'd still all be about alchemy."

I had to agree, though Ed was getting better at making small conversation, just not on much that would have taken Elysia's interest. Though her mother was doing her best to keep the girl well-rounded in her interests, Elysia's favorite color was still pink and her favorite game was playing house. Those two things, prior to my blindness, I didn't know, hadn't cared to learn. Even if these things had been told to me before, I wouldn't have bothered to remember. It was amazing how priorities changed.

I could hear the footsteps along the wood floors of my hallway: Gracia's light click-clack of the heals of her shoes and the pad of the rubber sole at the ball of her foot, and the heavy clomping of military-issued boots designed for the climate of the Drachman border. No matter how much grace the eldest Armstrong possessed, the boots would always betray her. They were outside of the arched doorway to the room, and I knew I really should have probably taken a more attentive position or an official one at least, but honestly I was comfortable with Elysia on my lap, and I thought, perhaps, the child's presence might just dull Armstrong's usually harsh barbs.

"Mustang, we need to talk," she said, sounding almost strained. It must have been taking everything she had not to say more or throw in a dig at my character, blindness, or what have you.

"About ...?" I asked, settling back on the sofa, feeling Elysia's hair move beneath my chin as she turned her head to look at Olivier.

"The fuhrer situation," she said.

I could feel my heart sinking to my stomach at the words, though I masked my face not to show it and nodded instead. "I knew this conversation would be coming sooner or later," I said simply. I heard Gracia ask Elysia to come to the kitchen and help her make cookies for me — at some point along the line, Gracia had set up a small bakery in my little apartment, guaranteeing whenever she came over for more than a quick visit, I would be rewarded with fresh bread or cookies. She'd even offered to show me how to bake them, as well as learn how to navigate my kitchen without my sight. I reminded her that I hadn't done so well navigating it when I could see, let along now that my vision was still mostly absent.

Elysia hopped off of my lap, saying a pleasant goodbye to the imposing woman in the room. I didn't have to see her to know that Armstrong was imposing; I could damned near feel what I didn't already know from memory. Elysia, however, seemed unaffected by her and happily went into the kitchen with her mother.

I could hear the other woman perch herself on my chair, probably on one of the arms, as I did not hear the usual hiss the cushions made as the leather and fluff inside adjusted to the weight of whomever was sitting on them. "Is it always going to involve all of this politicking?" she asked, sounding almost weary. I dared turn my direct vision from her so that I could at least get an idea of her posture, but what little I could make out, blurred and miniscule as it was, didn't seem out of the ordinary.

I nearly snapped at her, "All of what 'politicking?' You mean what I've been doing?", but the part of me that wanted to fight for the position of fuhrer knew that of the two of us, she was the most fit physically to handle it. I sighed instead and shifted in my seat, my right leg now up and resting on my left knee. "If we don't want war, and even if we do, yes."

She growled softly and I could vaguely make it out as she crossed her arms at her chest. "I don't like politics. Are you sure we can't crush everyone under Amestris' iron will?"

I chuckled and shook my head, trying to squash the slightest glimmer of hope at her dislike of a large portion of the fuhrer's job. I tried my damnedest to let the resignation take over instead. "Not likely," I said. "Our 'iron will' would be in our alchemists, and unless we are on good enough terms with other countries to learn their techniques, Amestrian-style alchemy is going to dry up. We don't have Father and his destruction to keep feeding the alchemy we do."

"Wait ... what?" she asked. I had not mentioned this to her, or to anyone outside of those of us who had seen the Gate, and I could understand her confusion. Amestris had been known for its alchemy since its existence; the mere idea it would one day be powerless, unless it changed its methods, was frightening.

"The thing we fought below, the experiments and death that he brought about, that was the fuel for Amestrian alchemy, what makes it so different from Creta and Xing. I don't know if it means those of us who can use Amestrian alchemy will exhaust the supply like a lantern using oil or if it is more something that will run out when it comes time for newer generations to be born with the ability. Ed probably understands it better than I," I admitted. After all, some of my memories of the "truth" were a bit foggy. "But what I do know is that Creta is working on something with potential for us to learn and Xing already has an established form of alchemy, and that doesn't even consider the countries further from our borders. Diplomacy is our best recourse at this point."

I heard her sigh. "I know it is, I just needed to hear someone say it. We're still weeding through the military for the people who knew about Bradley's plans and the ones most likely to stab us in the back." She shifted somehow that involved needing to stomp down on of her feet on the carpeted floor. "I hate politics. I hate diplomacy. I don't think I have to tell you that I don't know a damned thing about the latter. Put me on a battlefield, have me give the orders, come up with tactics and I know what I'm doing. Hell, if I have to, I can even follow orders if I respect the person barking them enough."

"If you're going to be fuhrer, you're going to have to learn to broaden that."

She let out a huff. "That's the point, though, I don't think I'm going to be fuhrer. Surprisingly enough, I don't think I want it that badly. I can't imagine anyone who _would_ want it that badly." She paused a moment, and I imagine leveled her eyes at me, not that this mattered at all. She could have been giving me the stink eye for all it mattered. "Except for you."

That tiny little spark of hope in the back of my brain was catching fire faster than any alchemy I'd managed. "Which means what?"

"You know what it means," she said, sounding as though her jaw was clenched a bit too tight.

"I just needed to hear someone say it," I replied, using her words from before.

"You're a damned bastard, Mustang, but you're going to be a damned bastard fuhrer. Does that make you happy?"

I smirked because I knew if I didn't show some pleased response to the whole discussion, I was going to finally explode and shout from my complex's rooftop. (Not that I didn't do that anyway after Armstrong left, with Gracia and Elysia tagging behind me certain I'd lost my mind, but that's beside the point. I didn't want to do it at that moment.) "There must be a catch, though," I said.

"Well, we all know that Bradley had too much power, and though I'll admit, begrudgingly, that you're a good tactician, you can't do the diplomacy and the war at the same time. You take the title of fuhrer, and yes, you can tell people what duties to do, what areas you want the military in, but you let the micromanaging up to the Head of the Military." I pointed in her direction, at least, what should have been her direction. "Yes, Mustang. Me. I don't want to kiss foreign ass, but you're good at it. Really good at it, if the rumors are anything to go by."

"Highly exaggerated. Not an area of the body I've ever had an oral fixation for," I say with that same ridiculous smirk. I think it had begun to look a bit goofy by that point, and my response to her innuendo-laced bait probably fell short of even seeming like a come-on.

"Yes, well, whatever your 'oral fixations,'" she said, "they'll be public knowledge along with the rumors. I think I'll stick with a step slightly out of the spotlight."

I chuckled, but there was some truth to that. I knew there were quite a few things in my past that people would have trouble accepting, things that only those closest to me knew. How long until one or another of my lovers surfaced or my upbringing or my father (or people claiming to be him once the truth was out)? The smirk diminished on my lips. "And if the people decide I'm not fit, because they know I'm still mostly blind or because they don't care for some of my past?"

"Then I'll cook in the spotlight. But not until you've done it first." She stood and took a few steps closer to me, actually putting her hand on my shoulder. I don't think it was just my mind making it feel like a fairly awkward gesture. "And if some of the other generals pop up saying they deserve your job or mine, we'll be a unified front. Your job isn't something someone gets promoted to. It happens because of public sentiment and proving yourself in battle. You've done both. And my position is appointed."

I rolled my eyes. "Technically, by me, but we'll keep the fact that you gave yourself this brand new position our little secret." She gave me a sound, stinging pat on the arm and headed for the archway out of the room.

"Just remember, I'll only take orders from you if I can manage to respect you, so don't screw this up, Fuhrer Mustang." I could imagine her pointing at me, icy blue eyes narrowing in my direction. I had no intention of losing that woman's respect, partly because it had been damned difficult to earn and partly because I knew that losing it would mean finding myself at the wrong end of her blade.

"Got it, General Armstrong."

Her steps were still heavy on the hall floors, but they sounded lighter now, eased of the burden of a future of international relations. At the point I heard a few muttered goodbyes between the Ice Queen and the Hughes women, I listened carefully for the sound of my front door shutting. I smiled, then laughed in a way I hadn't managed in a long time.

I'll omit the rest, which, I've mentioned above, involved a somewhat embarrassing lapse of judgement on my part, running out of the front door so that I could shout out to the world that I was finally the fuhrer. I don't recall everything that I yelled, but I remember having enough restraint not to yell out for the world to "bow down to me." Really, it was not one of my better moments, but it was one of the happiest. At least, until I realized I'd frightened Gracia and Elysia had wanted to follow my lead and yell something funny from atop the ten-story building.

It took me two hours and Riza's presence to convince Gracia that I hadn't descended into lunacy.


	5. Chapter 4

**Mustang inaugurated as fuhrer**

CENTRAL — On the grounds that have been under restorations since the final battle of the revolution, the one-time hero of Ishbal and state alchemist Roy Mustang assumed the mantle of the fuhrership on Friday.  
In a move that surprised many, the newly promoted Gen. Olivier Armstrong officially relinquished her claim on the title last week, and Mustang has appointed her to the position of Head of the Military. He assured those in attendance that he would also place someone within the Military Department to oversee the operations of the State Alchemy Program, given that Armstrong does not have experience with alchemy. Nominees have not been mentioned at this time.  
On the stage with him, Mustang had several familiar faces from his staff, all of whom have been promoted in recent weeks, including Capt. Riza Hawkeye; Strongarm Alchemist Brig. Gen. Alex Armstrong, brother to Olivier Armstrong; First Lt. Heymans Breda; and Maj. Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist.

0o0o0o0

It had been a surprise when Ed showed up to the inauguration. That feeling is one of the few I remember of the day; it all went by so quickly I believe I suffered from whiplash. The moment I'd waited for to savor, and I couldn't honestly remember more than a few moments, disjointed feelings. It was full of pomp and circumstance, formalities and recitation. For all I'd worked to achieve it, really, the inauguration ceremony held very little heart.

One of the few distinct moments that sticks out in my mind is Olivier Armstrong trying, and failing miserably, to look humble as I announced she would oversee the military, allowing me to focus more on rebuilding the country and our relations with the international community. As she took the podium to address the crowd, I forced myself to sit with one leg crossed over the other, a hand resting over my chin and mouth in an attempt to look deep in thought and not to obviously be on the verge of laughter. I don't recall all of it, given the fact that I was trying very hard not to break into hysterics throughout, but I had a sudden "coughing fit," as she uttered the phrase, "I cannot express my incredible gratitude to the people of Amestris and our new fuhrer, Roy Mustang, for seeing in me the ability to instruct the military under his leadership," through practically gritted teeth, and then followed it with, "It is my sincerest wish that I will live up to the expectations upon me, as I know that Fuhrer Mustang will do in command of this country that finds itself at a crossroads."

I would have been touched, rather than splitting my sides if I had thought any of it was meant genuinely, but I knew for a fact that Alex Armstrong had written the speech for her and she'd barely given it second glance after he gave it to her. If she had, she wouldn't have found herself midway through an exultation of the people who inspired her to find myself and, shortly after, her brother for his "stunning bravery and characteristic Armstrong strength" and found herself forced to follow through on the thought. To be honest, I was rather impressed with him for this cunning trickery on his older sister; I think he'd been spending too much time around me.

While the inauguration itself wasn't incredibly memorable, the party that followed was much more so. We had forgone the traditional ball to "save money for restorations to the city and country as a whole." In reality, it was so that I didn't take out an entire dance floor; I'd always had trouble staying within set boundaries when I danced, and that certainly wasn't going to get better when I couldn't see said boundaries or fellow dancers. Instead, we had a brief dinner with various dignitaries and friends and family came to greet me at my new home. (Though I hadn't wanted a new place to live and couldn't have navigated a full-fledged mansion, I was told it was impossible to secure my former apartment.) I was shocked to see Olivier show up, along with Alex who was sporting a swollen cheek that I knew he hadn't had during the ceremony or the dinner.

With some clever subterfuge, my staff managed to get Al to the home without the photographers noticing him and getting dozens of photographs. Though Al claimed he didn't mind it if they took pictures, he didn't need to have the whole country analyzing his current state more than they already were. Or rather, Ed didn't need it. I'd been asked a few times already by those in the military, not including those in the media, about Ed's treatment of his younger brother, if neglect was playing a part. I could only assure them that this wasn't the case, that Alphonse had used the armor to protect a weakened body, thanks to alchemy — a feat I ensured was possible before using it as an excuse for the younger Elric's health — and that Ed had been doing everything he could in the last few years to ensure his brother was healthy enough to do without it.

Weakened body or not, there was very little that could actually curb Al's enthusiastic nature, even at a party full of diplomats and officials.

Walking through my home, hoping to stumble upon a room and look as though I had a purpose there, since I still hadn't learned to navigate the place and no one knew just how impaired my vision still was, I felt a hand at my chest. "Careful," Ed said as his arm would not grant me egress to the rest of my hallway. "Wheelchair stunt show, apparently." I could hear some enthusiastic voices. Ed's hand dropped from my chest and I could hear the clinking of ice in a glass as he raised it to his lips and released a faint sigh as he swallowed. "Not really fair to Al, though. He hasn't had his as long as Havoc."

"True," I said. "Though Al is lighter than Jean is, so he may just surprise everyone." I stuck my hands in my pockets and pretended to look on in the direction of the clanking metal and hum of rubber wheels over wood floors. "I am curious, though, where you managed to get that drink. You're underage."

"It's a celebration," Ed said, as though that was an explanation. I lifted a single eyebrow and cocked my head in his direction to ensure he knew that I didn't consider it one. "It was offered to me and I took it. It's one drink, the only one I've had all night and I keep adding more soda to it to cut back on the taste of the alcohol. I don't know how you people drink it straight like you do."

"I prefer it on the rocks."

"Close enough." The rattle of ice in the glass came again, and the faint noise as he swallowed. "Seriously, though, no idea how you and some of the others drink it like it was water."

"See that you never learn," I said.

I could hear the hum of wheels approaching Ed and me, the speed of the approach sounded faster than what Al would be likely to achieve. "Hey, boss," Jean said as his chair stopped in front of me, "want to do me a favor of pushing me into the living room? I'm not sure how well this thing will roll over your carpet."

"Keep in mind that rug was a gift from Xing and is decades old. Do me a favor and don't run wheelies over it," I warned, though I honestly appreciated what he was doing for me. It wasn't the first time one of team had grabbed me by the sleeve or put a friendly hand on my shoulder to guide me around my new home. Jean couldn't quite offer the same, but he did it in his own way. I pushed as he guided discreetly at the wheels.

"Any chance you could help me out with General Mitchell's first lieutenant? Being fuhrer and all, you could give a few kind words for your devoted, wounded, re-instated first lieutenant?" I rolled my eyes a he tried to lay it on thick. "Perhaps maybe even mention how devastatingly handsome, I am."

"I'm not that blind," I retorted as I pushed him into the other room.

"You wound me." He tried his best to sound affronted. "Well, any chance you'd help me by playing wingman?" Havoc asked. I had to wonder how much his confidence had improved over the last few months. I can't recall for the life of me the last time he willingly asked for me to help him. He was more likely to suspect I'd take away his potential date. Likely because it was very probable I would. It was a fun game for me, though I'm sure he never saw it that way. "She seems to have a friend, and the friend isn't so bad on the eyes, but the friend outranks me. Captain, you know."

"If I were to help you out on this, I can think of another captain who might have my head," I told him as we walked into the room.

"Oh really now?" I had to stop pushing him in his chair, and I was certain that he was twisting around to look at me. "How long has this been going on?"

"Are you trying to see if you can collect on your bet?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. He tried to pretend he was innocent, but I kept my head lowered in his direction, doing my best to keep the same kind of expression I would have given him if I were able to see him.

"Who told?" he asked wryly, knowing that I wasn't buying the routine.

"Sworn to secrecy," I said, "but you might want to check and see who wins the bet." If they were smart enough, which Ed was, or conniving enough, which Ling was, one of them would have placed a bet for the day they knew Riza and I had begun our relationship.

Havoc gave what seemed to me to be a very exaggerated sigh. "I guess I'll have to ask Breda. Falman's too rigid to be a good wingman, and Fuery and Ross are sort of, well, trying things, which is making Brosh intolerable for anything, let alone being a good wingman."

"Is that very fair to Breda?" I asked. Havoc had been using the other lieutenant as his "wingman" for years, though I knew the man didn't have much interest, or any at all, in picking up the kind of leftovers that Havoc's choice in women usually left behind.

"He's a good friend, and unattached right now. He'll do it. He'll make her friend laugh and spend her time with him, even if there isn't a chance in hell of it going anywhere, and in the meantime, I can pull the lieutenant away to plan a possible date. Maybe continuing this evening elsewhere." I didn't know for sure that he'd done it, but the way he'd said it, I was sure that had been accompanied by a wiggle of his eyebrows. I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

"Hey, I'm good, Boss," Havoc said. "The carpet isn't so bad to roll over. Beside, General Mitchell is on his way over to talk to you, and I'm sure he doesn't want a lowly lieutenant listening to every word."

"Go on, abandon me for a pretty face," I said, trying to sound affronted. In reality, I was grateful that he'd both guided me into the room and told me who was approaching me.

Mitchell, apparently, wanted to discuss some ideas on the topic of the state alchemy program. I wasn't entirely sure what to make of his motives at first. Though I couldn't be sure that he was trying to convince me to give him the job, he seemed to be doing a fine job of trying to convince me not to give it to the three most likely candidates, according to public opinion. And, honestly, on the counts of both Mrs. Curtis and Ed, I had to agree; neither had the necessary experience, and both were far too unorthodox. As for Alex Armstrong, I thought he was an ideal candidate, but it seemed Gen. Mitchell had some problems with him, as well.

His voice lowered as he spoke the next words, a bit hesitant in his next statement, a fact I fully understood after he said it. "There is come concern," he said, pausing after those four words, "because of his involvement in the conflict in Ishval." I forced myself not to intake a deep, but loud breath at the mention of the place and what was done there. "People are looking for signs of change from using state alchemists as weapons, and though Maj — I mean Lt. Col. Armstrong... These sudden promotions are going to trip me up for the next few weeks." Mitchell paused and seemed to think on his words before continuing. "Lt. Colonel Armstrong still has the past with Ishval."

"Do you have other suggestions?" I asked, wondering if now he would be making a pitch for himself to get the job.

"There are a few who I could recommend, if for no other reason than to coordinate efforts with the Lieutenant Colonel. If you are open to suggestions, I could get you a list of names I believe would be loyal to you and who have more knowledge of alchemy than I."

I nodded, understanding that keeping Mitchell here in Central might not be a bad idea. I got the impression that he would be blunt with me when I needed it and could be a good source of advice. The fact he wasn't even trying to vie for a position yet in my administration showed he was either a very honest man - either that or he was trying to gain my confidence to earn one without asking, which only proved he had a shrewd mind, one I could put to good use.

We concluded the discussion with some niceties, and I felt a warm hand wrap around my arm, accompanied with a lilac perfume. I smiled as Mitchell excused himself for "what will obviously be more pleasant company than a general a bit past his prime."

"I thought perhaps you might need some rescuing," Riza said, and I put my hand over hers on my arm. "I know everyone has been bending your ear to get a position as high up as they can manage."

"And what are you offering for one of your own?"

"How about I keep covering your behind so that you don't die?"

"That sounds like a win/win for both of us," I told her. "I've been told I have a very nice behind." The smirk I now wore only broadened as I felt her hip bump against mine for the comment. "By the way, I might have told Havoc I couldn't be his wingman anymore."

"Darned right you can't," she said, and I could hear the smile in the light way she said it. I could only smile back at her. "I've overheard some of the dignitaries talking about leaving soon. We should probably make our way over to the door." Once again that night, another of those closest to me was willing to take over the task of being my eyes. In addition to her offer, Breda swept by once again, taking my now-empty glass from my hand so that I could shake the hands of the various officials as they left my new home. Riza did a fantastic job of politely saying the first goodbye before I chimed in with her. I did my best to make it look as though the whole scenario was perfectly natural.

Saying various farewells, I had to admit that Riza's presence was a welcome one. Having her at my side as we said repeated goodbyes and well wishes for the better part of the next hour was at least a small consolation. Olivier was among the last to leave who was not part of my team or the Elrics or Curtises. We exchanged congratulations to one another as she left with her team.

That left me with mine, and for the first time that night, I had a full-sized drink, one that hadn't been watered down to keep me alert throughout the evening. I savored the bourbon over ice as I finally stretched out on the new sofa that Riza had chosen for the parlor. It was fairly comfortable, but still needed some breaking in. She had abandoned me to pick up a few odd things that she spotted around the house. We'd yet to hire any permanent staff yet. I needed to either be more familiar with my new home or get more of my vision back before I had staff on hand all of the time.

"Did you want to cut into the cake that Gracia Hughes brought over?" Breda asked from the bar area. I told him to go ahead and made a mental note to tell Gracia that we had ended up eating the dish that night, despite the amount of food that had been provided by the catering company. It had been a kind gesture on her part.

"Save a piece for Elysia at least," I called to him.

"Already doing it, Boss," he replied back, as I felt someone sitting next to me and heard the sound of a wheelchair rolling over. I knew it wasn't Havoc because I could hear him talking to Breda, thanking his long-suffering friend for trying to help him out with the female lieutenant. Breda mentioned something about Havoc trying to at least consider his preferences before he started setting him up for failure with the friend of Havoc's target woman du jour.

I allowed my attention to focus back on the person currently sitting next to me. Ed, if I was guessing right by the knee that was pressed against mine; he had the tendency to do that when sitting close to me, though I don't think he realized it, given the lack of sensation in his automail. However, I was very aware that the limb pressing against my own was not flesh and bone. I could also gauge that the person to my side was not very tall or broad. It was odd how my ability to determine a person's identity was developing. I could sense others near me at the moment, as well, with a change in the way sound bounced around the room to get to me, and new scents, faint as they were.

"Here," Ed said, placing a box in my hand. It was a small box, but did not have the velveteen texture on the outside that would indicate it immediately as a jewelry box, though it was about the same shape. Inside, something was rattling loosely. I started to lift the lid on it, finding it came apart and had no hinge. "We thought you should have this."

I pulled the chain out of the box and let my hands trail over the rope-like metal, which wasn't overly thick, but it was thicker than the necklace of my mother's that I intended to give Riza sometime a little less hectic than that night had been. It held a figure of some sort It felt almost like textured vines intertwined, carved out of metal. It was warm in my palm as I allowed my index finger to trace over it. It felt familiar somehow.

"It's the symbol we all wear," Al's still-raspy voice said. It was still odd to hear how the high tones from the armor had changed to the voice of a growing teenager, cracking and squeaking with puberty. "We thought you deserved to have one as well. If you don't like the necklace, Brother or I could change it into something different."

"How would he know if he likes it?" Ed asked with a light teasing tone. "He can't see it."

"He will eventually," Al said with such faith in my eyesight's return that I could have kissed the boy. It was more faith than I sometimes managed in my darker times.

I wrapped my hand around the necklace. "I thought this was something that you got because you were Mrs. Curtis' student," I said, turning my head to the direction of Ed and Al's voice.

"That is part of the reason we're giving this to you," I heard the woman say.

"You're going to teach me alchemy?" I asked. I was confused, as I knew a decent amount of alchemy, not to mention had learned the hard way the lessons that Mrs. Curtis taught the Elrics on that island.

"You know enough about alchemy, and we could work on polishing it," she said. "But that isn't what I meant. I meant that I want to teach you how to fight. If you can learn how to predict your opponent's movements, listen for where they are, your eyesight, or lack thereof, won't be an impediment."

"I didn't know you wanted to beat up on a blind man so much," I said with a chuckle. I could hear her let out a faint groan and knew she was likely restraining herself from strangling me. "I am joking. I accept. But, that leaves me in your debt more than I already am. I know you operate by equivalent exchange. What do you want in return?"

"Sig and I are hoping to adopt siblings from the orphanage here in Central, but to finalize the adoption, we have to let the kids get to know us," she said. "The process, including paperwork and visitations will take several weeks, months even."

"Can you afford to leave your business for so long?" I asked. They hadn't been back since the battle, and I could only imagine they had employees they trusted as much as I did my team.

"For this, absolutely," Sig's gruff voice replied, leaving no room for argument or further questioning.

"So, you two need a place to stay that is a bit more comfortable than the military guest quarters," I said, not waiting for confirmation. Even if that wasn't what they were asking for, they would get it, gladly. "I have five guest rooms. Have your pick."

"Thank you," Sig said.

"If your wife is willing to train me and it works, it will be me thanking the two of you."

Even if I was nowhere near the Elrics' skill level, which was probable, given the 15- and 16-year age difference, it certainly couldn't hurt matters for me. It made me think back to Ed's promise for a rematch. The first time around, I'd had more experience when it came to using my alchemy in battle and quick and ever-changing strategy, but when I'd faced off against Ed, he'd bested me when it came to the actual fighting. I smirked at what it could mean if I had the combination of alchemy, strategy and fighting ability and were to face Ed once again.

As though he could read my mind, Ed chimed in, "Don't get any ideas bastard. I can still kick your ass, even after she's through with you."

"We will see, Ed."


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N: Het warning ahead. This will take a while to get to the yaoi, but I promise that the het isn't very detailed._

**Fullmetal abandons Amestris**

CENTRAL - Much to the surprise of many, the prize of Amestris' state alchemist program, the Fullmetal Alchemist, is leaving Central and the state military. According to Fuhrer Roy Mustang, he approved Elric's departure from the military.**  
****"**I fully support Maj. Elric's departure from the state military," Mustang said in a press conference Wednesday afternoon. "He has made great sacrifices for the country in his years as a state alchemist, and I have no issues with releasing him from his contract early to take care of his brother. I have no doubt that Maj. Elric will continue to be The People's Alchemist, even if it is not in an official capacity.**  
****"**He would not be Edward Elric or have rightfully earned his title if he were not the type of man to do so.

"**New diplomacy for new administration****  
**The Mustang Administration will soon be proving its intentions to take a new stance on diplomacy with Amestris' neighbors as diplomats from Aerugo, Drachma, Creta and Xing visit the country to tour the underground tunnels.**  
****"**I look forward to meeting with representatives from our neighbors," Fuhrer Roy Mustang said. "Showing them the tunnels that we intend to convert into an underground train system will help to explain the events of the last few months and show the efforts our country is making to turn a negative into a positive."

#

Ed was probably passing some of the delegates from Aerugo and Xing on his train back to Resembool. Not that he'd know. It was my understanding that he'd been almost insufferable, even to his ever-patient brother, in trying to make preparations for Al to be comfortable on the ride home, continue his therapy once there and locate the nearest doctors to treat any complications that might arise. Ed was oblivious to everyone's irritation, as he usually was, and couldn't understand why everyone was being "such assholes" to him.

My own sight was still slow to recover. The dark spots that obscured the center of my vision had shrunk to the point I could make my way around without absolutely having to have someone around, though having them certainly helped matters. I still wore the tinted glasses for two reasons, though. With the black spot, I still was unable to see anything - though it was all blurry - when looking at it straight-on, and the grayish tint hid my eyes' natural attempts to look at people indirectly just to be able to see them. The downside of this reverse degeneration of my eyes was that bright light, particularly sunlight, created a fierce glare. The tint helped with that, too.

Explaining the glasses today was going to be difficult. I would be leading the various foreign dignitaries around the underground tunnel system that Father had created. In talking with some of my top officials, we agreed to use the tunnels, redirecting some so they no longer formed a transmutation circle, to create an underground mass transit system. It would be the first of its kind, but to gain the trust of our neighbors after years of bad blood would require a tour of them. I had to show them that this was not a method for us to make war.

Riza stood at my side with her hand on my arm as we awaited the cars to arrive that would bring the diplomats from Creta, Aeruga, Drachma and Xing as well as a few select reporters. It may have been unfair, and some of the news companies were lamenting a lack of freedom of the press under my rule, but until I had these tunnels and Father's mess cleaned up and my vision back, they could just kiss my ass, as Ed would put it.

Though we were officially incorporating Ishbal into our country, one of their people's elders was coming along as well. It was that final guest that I was personally dreading the most, but I had been trying to do reparations for my actions in Ishbal, even if it could never really drive away my own were relatively alone at the guard post to the Central entrance of the tunnels, while the rest of my team and other guards double- and triple-checked security.

**"**How am I to go about leading you around?" Riza asked. It wasn't really proper in a formal setting for a captain to be holding onto the fuhrer's arm. I had promised her that I would think of something, and I had; I just didn't know if she would accept.I used my free hand to reach into my breast pocket and swallowed, unused to the sudden nervousness that was hitting me.

"I thought of a way that would explain you being at my side today … and every day." I pulled out a small jewelry box. "And I'm sorry that I'm borrowing one of my old cufflinks boxes for this. I didn't go to a jeweler's for it, so I didn't get a nice box, but it felt as though it should at least have been presented in one... It was my mother's."

It wasn't fancy and probably was worth very little compared to what I could afford to buy, but it meant more than that. Though just a simple silver band with a single opal, it was one of the precious few things I had of the woman who had given me life. It was one of only three of my mother's belongings Chris had given to me when I'd grown. She'd sold the rest of her things to settle the debts she'd left behind and the ones that I incurred.

I could feel Riza's hand tightening on my arm. "I know the timing isn't quite the best, since people will be here soon and I probably should have done this over a romantic dinner … I thought about that, you know. But I couldn't time that before today, and I felt we probably needed to be engaged by this point-"

**"**Roy, stop," she said, putting a hand over my lips even as I continued to talk. "No, maybe the timing isn't perfect, but if you think I want a big romantic show, you don't know me that well." I stared at her a moment or two, not really knowing just yet how to react to what she'd said. She laughed and bumped me with her hip. "That's a yes, you stupid idiot."

I wanted to chastise her for calling me both stupid and an idiot, because wasn't one of the two enough, but I was too busy kissing her - or at least trying to through my smile. I felt her arms wrap around my neck, so I let my own make their own way to encircle her waist. I pressed her against my own body and tried not to grin like a completely love-sick moron when I knew I would have to deal with foreign dignitaries and behave myself.

"You'll stay tonight?" I asked as we finally ended the kiss.

**"**If you don't mind Black Hayate coming with me."

**"**I already have a bag of his food and bowls for him at the house. What do you think?" I asked her before finally sliding the ring out of the box and putting it on her finger, with her help. "I also have a few of your things you thought you were secretly leaving around the house."

I couldn't see it clearly at this close space, but I suspected there was a sheepish smile spreading across her face. "You noticed that, did you?"

**"**I'm not quite _that_blind, Riza." I kissed her softly on the lips again. "I assume you won't mind me introducing you as my fiancee today?" I asked.**"**Just as long as it isn't the only reason you've asked me."

**"**Not a chance," I told her and held her for a few moments that didn't feel like nearly enough. Much too soon, I cold hear the envoy for the diplomats pulling up. I was not lying when I told Riza that I wanted to do this another way. I didn't want the engagement to be colored by the where and how I had done it, or rather, that I had done it this way.

The first to step out of the car was a diplomat from Creta and a reporter. The reporter was one that I knew quite well, one of the hand-picked few to get to visit the tunnels. Though I knew the press was anxious to have more freedom of access to things in my life and in the military, I didn't know if I would ever be the kind of leader to give them that. Even if I were that kind of leader, I knew this was not the time to grant the media free reign. If the wrong information got out, someone could potentially have tried to recreate Father's experiments.

The Cretan diplomat smiled and extended her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you," she said as I moved my own palm to hers; I was almost impressed by how easily I had found what was a small target despite the black dot that still dominated my world. I noted that the ambassador had a soft accent, as though her every vowel and word were softened, rounded. "I am Prudence Cathcart." I had to feel some pity for her, to have been burdened with a name like Prudence while still only a small baby. Parents could be cruel sometimes.

I offered my own greeting and shook her hand. Prudence pleased me quite a bit when she immediately moved to my right to introduce herself to Riza. Though she did not yet know we were engaged, she didn't snub the woman who was so important to me.

Riza was polite to Prudence and the reporter, but before the man spotted the ring on her finger, the second car was pulling up. This one was filled with a few more from the press and the representative from Ishbal. Though the people were officially Amestrian citizens, considering our history and their work to rebuild their community, it felt only appropriate for their people to understand what exactly had happened to cause such a massacre.

**"**I told you that getting on the earlier car was the smarter idea. More leg room," Prudence said to the reporter at her side. I had to admit I liked the woman almost instantly. She already seemed at ease with me and with the country, which put me in a better mood about the whole situation. I became worried when I caught slight movement as she looked at Riza and then gave me a very knowing smile. This woman was incredibly perceptive, which meant I couldn't tell her half-truths without her spotting them for what they were.

The reporter, despite making a living at this, did not have the same eye for detail, and Prudence's movement went unnoticed for the time-being. He was still blissfully unaware of this new development.

It took a bit more time for everyone to arrive at our designated meeting point. No representative from Xing was in attendance because the Emperor had every assurance from his son and newly named heir that Amestris would make for a strong ally to their empire. At least, while it was under my control. I imagine that Ling had also told his father about the tunnels and how he came into possession of a philosopher's stone and the homunculus Greed. It was my understanding that was how he had been named heir.

**"**Why don't we begin our tour?" I asked the men and women. Riza's hand came to rest on my arm. She would guide me this way through the tunnels, but I knew I needed to explain the somewhat affectionate gesture to the diplomats and reporters.

"I am still learning more about the various cultures of your lands," I said, in particular looking to the Drachman official. I knew he was a hard-assed man and that their country was not exactly fond of women's rights. What rights their women had were hard-won and not nearly what they deserved. "I hope that it will not trouble you if my fiancee, and I walk through the tunnels a bit closely. She has only just given me an answer and this is as close to a public display of affection as we're quite ready to give at this point."

I could hear the reporters' pencils scraping across their notepads, and I could just make out Prudence's smile once again. Congratulations were offered by the officials and a few of the reporters. The Ishballan ambassador, however, remained largely silent. I don't suppose he wanted to hear much good news about my life, and I could hardly blame him. Though I was trying to help the Ishballan people rebuild in any way I could while still unable to leave Central, I knew that I was still very unpopular.

**"**Shall we move along, then?" I asked before moving ahead into the were some explanations that needed to be made, why we were realigning portions of the tunnels, what we planned to do with them, etc. These I could answer largely truthfully. "The tunnels were a mad alchemist's plan to create a huge transmutation that would have killed nearly everyone in the country.

"Since the tunnels are largely complete and all stable, it made sense to us to turn them into a form of mass transit. Underground, we should be able to use trains to travel much more quickly than we can risk on land."

These were naturally followed with more complicated questions about the alchemist who had tried to wipe out an entire country. Who was he? How was he able to do this? These were the things I couldn't be truthful about, but the story had been well rehearsed over the months, and even in front of these officials, I had no issues reiterating the familiar lie.

Prudence seemed to feel the need to touch the walls, and I couldn't really think of a legitimate reason to stop her, even if my gut churned at the idea of making contact with the madman's handiwork. One of the very last things Ed had done was make sure that the tunnels were free of alchemic influence. He'd even had Izumi's assistance.

On occasion, I saw the diplomat from Ishbal copy Prudence's movements, and in the dim lighting above us, I had to wonder just what his face looked like as he did. He may not have had the markings on his arm that Scar had, but I had learned the people of Ishbal were far more in tune with the world and the power it possessed than most of those of Amestris.

Riza was at my side through the whole tour, her arm firmly wrapped around mine. It was a pleasant weight I knew I could easily become accustomed to, if she would allow it. For now, I knew she took pity on me. I don't think it looked like pity, however, if the reporters and the newspaper articles the following day were anything to go by. I know that I didn't feel like it was entirely pity as her hand made its way to mine at the end of the tour. I could feel my mother's ring as our fingers interlaced and we made our way back to my home. Soon to be our home.

It felt nothing like pity, either, that night.

I do not think I can state enough just how beautiful that woman's body is. I often cursed her father and myself for the crimes we committed against it. Flawless skin and beautiful curves were marred by the tattoo that my former teacher had etched onto the peach flesh, and a large portion of that was destroyed by my own hand. It doesn't matter to my own sense of guilt, nor has it ever mattered, that Riza asked me to do this to as I watched, as best I could, as her form retreated into my bedroom, uniform coat gone, with only her golden hair to cascade down her back, I was reminded of the time I had first gotten a glimpse of that body. She had been young and trusting. She made me swear to tell no one what her father had researched.

It was a promise I would have done well to have remembered and that maybe I should have had been no romance then, just an overzealous alchemist practically bursting with giddy laughter at the thought of finally getting the research he'd been dying to learn for years and a girl handing over immeasurable knowledge to man she thought she could trust. I did not intentionally use her feelings for me to get the formula that had been tattooed in dark ink, but I don't doubt that she only trusted me the way she did because she had a crush on me.

**"**You seem very deep in thought," she said, turning her head to look at me as she slowly slid the pants of her uniform over her hips. I could hear the worry in her voice.

"I was just thinking about how beautiful you are," I said. It was at least a half-truth. The rest of my thoughts were simply too weighty for this moment. "I wish that I could see you more clearly."

"You will," she said as she pulled me toward her. Her gun-calloused hands wrapped around my wrist as she pressed her lips to mine. "Your sight is getting better all the time. It won't be long until it's at 100 percent."

I didn't believe that, and I wasn't entirely sure she did, either, but they were nice words to hear, and it was a pleasant reminder that my sight was improving. Still, for this first night together, I wanted desperately to see her clearly. I wanted the black spots gone, the blurs clear.

Then, I realized what a tactile experience this would be. I could tell the character of each kiss, from the soft to the passionate-the woman was no less demanding or dominant in bed than she was in the rest of the world-and I could feel the planes of her body, the curves of her breasts, the rise and fall of her curves, the textures of her skin. Soft and supple in some areas, roughened palms from handling weapons, scars both raised and creating small indents in her skin. I worshiped the mark I hated most, kissed every last inch of it and traced it like braille.

If I can be so proud of myself, by the time I was done thoroughly showing my reverence, I had Riza thoroughly undone. Each little moan and whine and whimper nearly sent me over the edge, but I was too determined to cause more to rush this. When she actually said the phrase "Please, Roy..." that was it.

What followed was too fast for my own tastes, but I blamed that on wanting this with Riza far too much, on it having been too long since I'd last had sex of any kind, and for having gotten us both thoroughly excited. Riza didn't seem to be complaining, and it wasn't as though I was so old that I couldn't manage a second and even third round.

After a few minutes, of course.


End file.
